


Lost In Obsidian

by squiddtastic



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Angst, Descriptions of the Trial of the Grasses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Intense Physical Pain, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-19 11:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22876840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiddtastic/pseuds/squiddtastic
Summary: He wanted to tell her it was her fault; the pain he went through, the mutations and experiments he had to endure. He wanted to tell her about the scorn he had faced, the danger he was forced to push through every day of his life, his inevitable fate of dying painfully and alone – a witcher's death. He wanted to tell her everything. He couldn't.But he felt that she understood anyway.--Geralt has been through a lot over the years. The memories catch up with him at times.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 106
Collections: Best Geralt





	Lost In Obsidian

**Author's Note:**

> The part where Visenna talks to Geralt has stuck with me ever since I read it in the books and I feel like it isn't touched on enough!!! Unless it is and I just haven’t looked which is entirely possible. This was written with game Geralt in mind I guess but honestly you wouldn't even be able to tell, so don't worry if you're just coming from the show.
> 
> Also, love me some father-daughter, it's GOOD.
> 
> (Kind of irrellevant sidenote: I might finally get a break from work so I'll have a lot more time to catch up with the books, hopefully I'll be able to write more for my TSGR series soon! :eyes:)

Geralt was sprinting through the dense forest, lungs constricting painfully as he ran.

It was suffocating. It was exhausting. And it was all too familiar. He didn't know where he was going, he didn't know why he felt such a deep-seated dread in his heart, but he knew he had to run. He knew he had to ignore the pain in his body, the way his joints protested with every step. His lungs were on fire, despite his practiced witcher stamina, and he was wheezing painfully as he desperately gripped his chest. He felt for his witcher medallion. It was there. It was motionless.

He couldn't see. The forest around him was lost to darkness, dipped in an obsidian black which rendered any type of observations useless. He wasn't used to this. Normally he had no trouble seeing in the dark, at least with the help of potions. But he had no potions. He had nothing but the tattered clothes on his back and the medallion around his neck. The medallion was still motionless, and yet still he felt an overwhelming sense of fear.

He had to keep running.

He collided with the trees often, staggering and grunting in pain each time he did so, unable to see the path ahead. He could feel a sliver of his resolve being chipped away with each impact. He was lost, he was confused, but above all he was terrified. He was not used to being terrified.

Suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere, the sound of soft voices filled his senses. He couldn't tell where they were coming from; they felt otherworldly. He couldn't tell if he wanted to run towards them or away from them, but he knew that either way he could not stop.

So he didn't.

"She's gone," the voices whispered. _Who?_ He wanted to ask, but he could only gasp for air as he ran, stumbling on his own feet. "She's gone, and you are alone."

 _I am alone,_ Geralt repeated in his head. The words stayed there, repeating over and over, as if meant to stick in his mind like tar. _I am alone. She's gone, and I am alone._ He did not know who was gone, but he knew in his gut that he should feel pain and anguish at the thought. And he did. The voices did not stop their unrelenting whispers, digging into his thoughts like centipedes, tormenting him with unease and despair.

He found himself in a clearing; he could hardly see a thing, but he felt in his bones that the area around him was temporarily devoid of trees. The sky was empty, not a star present in the blanket of obsidian, suffocating him in its darkness. He felt his entire body go stiff, forcing him to collapse to his knees. He bent over, elbows digging into the ground as he shut his eyes so tightly he saw stars. He was shivering, his teeth chattering uncontrollably as his entire body seized. He tightly gripped at his hair, trying as hard as he could to silence the disembodied voices.

"She's gone. She has abandoned you. She's gone, and you are alone."

"She's gone and I'm alone," he repeated, his voice weak and cracking as he spoke. His lungs ached, begging him to be silent, but he couldn't stop. He felt compelled to speak. "She's gone. She's gone."

The tensing of his body suddenly disappeared and he collapsed further onto the ground, breath coming out in unsteady gasps. The voices were finally silent. He reveled in the silence, eyes closed, body pressed against the cold forest floor. He couldn't run, not anymore. He couldn't move. His head was spinning and he felt sick to his stomach.

It was at that moment that visions began to plague his mind – visions and memories of a time he so wished he could forget.

He is being lead to a room in Kaer Morhen, a room he has never been in before. It is eerily silent, damp and dark, the soft sounds of their footsteps filling the entire space. He is afraid. He does not show it. 

The vision flashes with a blinding white light and suddenly he is strapped firmly against a rickety and uncomfortable table, his body connected to a series of tubes. His heartbeat is deafening in his ears. He does not cry. Witcher's do not cry, and he was to be a witcher. He stares up at Vesemir, whose expression is guarded as he finishes the preparations. He avoids eye contact. Geralt grits his teeth together, his head falling back to rest on the cold table he is strapped to. Uneasiness grips at his heart as the anticipation of what is to come sets in. 

__

The vision flashes once more and suddenly the elixirs are being released into his system. All he can register is the sudden, intense burst of white-hot, excruciating pain. He is unable to keep still; his muscles spasm uncontrollably, his arms involuntarily and violently twist and pull against his restraints with all the strength his body is capable of, his eyes are sealed shut as he convulses on the unbearably cold table. He hears an agonized scream – he does not realise it is his own. Witcher's don't cry, he tells himself one last time, before he can no longer think. He cannot feel the tears streaming down his face as the insufferable pain grips him, strangling him, blinding him as he calls out for help. For anyone. Vesemir, Eskel, anyone he can think of. But nobody responds. 

__

_He is alone._

__

The visions ceased abruptly and Geralt felt as though he had been drowning, his breaths escaping in harsh gasps as he tried to forget the pain. But he could not. He felt himself groaning hopelessly, tears stinging at his eyes as he felt dread now as he did back then. He was alone, and he knew that the voices were right. He trusted them. He balled his hands into fists as he writhed on the cold earth of the clearing.

__

He heard the sound of footsteps approaching him. He didn't want to look up, he didn't want to open his eyes, he didn't want to move. But he did. His body demanded it. His eyes were forced open as he turned his gaze towards where the footsteps had been heard – they were silent now. It took a few seconds for his vision to focus, but he could see her. Though his eyes almost refused to believe what he was seeing.

__

She was standing elegantly, gracefully, yet as if she also held with her a sense of uncertainty. Her hair was long, reaching her waist, silky and red as the sun, contrasting with the darkness surrounding her. It felt as though there was a light on her and only on her – perhaps even emitting from her. Her eyes were uneasy, but they were locked onto Geralt with such intensity that he felt intimidated. Afraid. Hopeless. Alone. The nauseousness he felt only intensified with that gaze. And suddenly, with the force of a lightning strike, he knew who it was. His mouth opened as if to say something, but his throat was constricted and his mouth was dry as he weakly reached towards her. She did not react to the movement.

__

"Geralt," she whispered. Her voice was low, quiet, but Geralt could hear her as if the sound had been projected directly into his mind. He didn't want this. He didn't _want this._

__

"Stop," he choked out, his voice hoarse and hardly recognizable as his own. He ground his teeth together and let his arm fall uselessly to the ground. "Don't."

__

"You're alone, Geralt."

__

"Please."

__

"I'm sorry."

__

"Visenna," his voice cracked as he spoke. He felt painfully aware of the tears in his eyes. He hated it, he hated feeling so hopeless. So vulnerable, so emotional in the presence of another. But he couldn't stop himself from staring at her desperately, trying in vain to move towards her. His body would not respond. She looked almost as pained as he felt, her hands clasping nervously in front of her.

__

"I can't stay." Her voice was a barely audible whisper. But still he could hear her.

__

"Please don't leave me," he begged. "Don't leave me alone. Please."

__

She began to walk backwards, back into the sea of ink that was the forest, seamlessly navigating the void as she stared at his broken body. Geralt's muscles tensed again as he watched.

__

"I can't stay," she repeated. It sounded as if it caused her pain to speak. "I'm sorry, Geralt. I'm so sorry."

__

"Mom!" The word on his lips felt foreign, as if he wasn't meant to be saying it, yet the intense volume and desperation dripping from his voice surprised even him. She stopped at the sound of it, her eyes downcast. He had her attention, he knew this. But he no longer knew what to say. He didn't think he ever knew what to say, and despite calling out to her he wasn't sure he wanted to see her at all. But he didn't want her to leave him, not now, not _again._

__

"I can't stay..."

__

"Please stay," he tried his best to move his body but his joints were frozen in place and only twitched in response to his mind's commands. He heard the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears, faster than he could ever remember it being. He didn't want her to leave. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to be abandoned. He didn't want to be afraid anymore. "Why? Why did you do it? Why did you do this to me?"

__

She was silent. He ground his teeth together, unable to prevent the stinging tears from falling. He was uncomfortably aware of them. He was ashamed of them. But he could not stop.

__

"I'm alone because of you," Geralt's voice was wavering. He tried to steady it, but the effort was in vain. "You left me alone. It was you. You put me through this. You abandoned me. Why?! I need you to tell me why."

__

She opened her mouth as if about to respond, but closed it as she seemingly decided against voicing whatever was on her mind. She kneeled down instead, closer to Geralt's level. She gazed into his tearful eyes as if gazing into his very soul, examining every memory, fear, and insecurity he had and storing it away for later. He tried again to move, he tried so hard it felt as though the veins in his head might burst, but he _couldn't_. He wanted to stop his tears but nothing he did could stop them. He was not in control, he realised. He was not in control of anything. The corners of her lips twitched into a melancholic smile. She was suddenly infinitely closer to him as she reached out and brushed a few strands of untamed hair away from his face and behind his ear. The motion felt surreal.

__

"Your hair has changed. The white, it's... lovely."

__

He wanted to respond. His throat was constricting as he thought of his trials, his mutations, his experiments. _You're special,_ they had told him. _You're unique._ He felt nothing of the sort. He wanted to tell her what they did to him to make his hair that way. He wanted to tell her it was her fault; the pain he went through, the mutations and experiments he had to endure. He wanted to tell her about the scorn he had faced, the danger he was forced to push through every day of his life, his inevitable fate of dying painfully and alone – a witcher's death. He wanted to tell her everything. He couldn't.

__

__But he felt that she understood anyway._ _

__

__She stood up again, to her full and elegant height, her hands clasped in front of her once more. In an instant she felt impossibly far away, far beyond his reach, disappearing into the sea of darkness._ _

__

__"Don't go," he managed, his voice hoarse and strained._ _

__

__"Goodbye, Geralt."_ _

__

__"Mom. Ma, don't leave me!" he choked. His body was trembling. He hopelessly wished for his voice to sound more powerful, more intense, more demanding, but instead it sounded weak and desperate. When a sob escaped him involuntarily he clenched his teeth together and shut his eyes tight in an attempt to stem his tears. "Don't abandon me... Please, not now..."_ _

__

__But when he opened his eyes, she was gone._ _

__

__He was alone._ _

__

__His body jerked awake with a sharp gasp and his eyes flew open as he instantly sat up. He was immediately greeted with a pair of incredibly concerned emerald eyes, the figure of whom they belonged to quickly leaning back to avoid being knocked over by his body's sharp movement. A silent moment passed and Geralt could only focus on the rasping of his breaths, hardly able to discern what was real. He noticed he was in a forest – it was dark, but not void-like as the forest he had just been in was – and remembered that he had been traveling with Ciri. In a heartbeat, the woman in question sprang forward and embraced him tightly against her._ _

__

__"Geralt?" Ciri whispered softly, worry coating her voice like honey. "It's okay, I promise. It was just a dream. Are you alright?"_ _

__

__Geralt could feel the dampness of his face, his tears falling into her ashen hair, dampening it with his insecurities. He quickly moved to wipe his face with his hand, which proved to be a difficult task with her arms firmly around his shoulders in an unyielding grip._ _

__

__"I'm fine." His voice was wavering. He realised, then, that his answer might have been a lie. He didn't like lying to her. She pulled away ever so slightly, looking into his eyes as if attempting to analyze every detail, process every emotion. She was good at doing that. He averted his gaze as her eyes flickered across his face._ _

__

__"Geralt," she repeated, voice soft and reassuring. He gravitated towards that comfort. "It's alright. I understand."_ _

__

__He felt tears well up in his eyes once more, but he hurriedly blinked them away. This wasn't like him, this wasn't at all like him. She seemed to notice this as well, her expression shifting rapidly from fear to concern, but finally settling on a calming smile, as if she could feel his pain as her own. He suddenly reached out and wrapped his arms firmly around her, pulling her close against him. He buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes as he basked in the feeling of her presence, his heartbeat slowing to its regular pace. She returned the embrace easily, hands grasping at his shirt in a strangely comforting way._ _

__

__"Do you want to talk about it?" Her voice was muffled in his shirt. He shook his head, but spoke anyway, his voice low and gravely. More so than normal._ _

__

__"Lonely dream." He was not a man of many words, especially when it was in reference to himself. Luckily she seemed to understand him regardless. Her grip tightened briefly and she dug her face further into his chest. He felt her breathe deeply; it was calming to him, as if the feeling of her breaths reminded him that she was with him. That she was safe._ _

__

__"I'm here, Geralt. It's okay."_ _

__

__He knew this. Of course he knew this. He held her tighter, thoughts of his dream dissipating and instead being replaced by thoughts of his overwhelming love for her, the intense need to keep her safe, and knowing with absolute certainty that the feeling was mutual. He was not destined to a life of unhappiness, a life of pain, a life of abandonment. Ciri would not abandon him. He would not abandon Ciri. He smiled. He realised, then, how lucky he truly was. He didn't have much, but he had exactly what he needed. He let out a deep sigh, as if that one breath held all of his uncertainties, all of his pain and anguish, all of the fear he had felt mere moments before._ _

__

__"You aren't alone," she whispered._ _

__

__He believed her. He trusted her. His shoulders relaxed as he closed his eyes, softly falling back onto his bedroll, Ciri still held tightly in his arms._ _

__

__"I know."_ _

__


End file.
